


Eyes Green or Gray: Can't Remember

by springonions_withranch



Series: Eyes Green or Gray: Can't Remember [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Dating, First Dates, I just want them to be happy, M/M, Poetry, guess what yall its a crossover of two of my fav aus, id hit harold jenkins with 47 busses for free, olga is an old russian babushka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springonions_withranch/pseuds/springonions_withranch
Summary: Ding!Ben looks up from his naked piece of paper."How may I help yyyyyoo...oouu.""What, do I have food in my teeth?" the man asks, striding through the door, forest green eyes twinkling with laughter and life.Ben turns vermillion red, embarrassed. "Sorry," he says in a small voice."Oh, don't be. I'd be speechless too if I saw a face like mine every day," the man with the green eyes says.He winks at Ben."No, actually, you have marker on your forehead," Ben teases right back.-or-The crossover Bookstore/Bakery AU nobody asked for.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Original Male Character(s), Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Leonard Peabody, Klaus Hargreeves/Leonard Peabody (temporarily)
Series: Eyes Green or Gray: Can't Remember [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990729
Comments: 24
Kudos: 89





	1. In which our poet is introduced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Le_kunokimchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/gifts).



> Hey, y'all! First of all, I need to touch on the subject of *the incest.* By no means is incest (real incest) okay (at least in my book), so it's a good thing the Hargreeves aren't blood-related. This story will be Ben/Klaus, so if you don't do that, don't. 
> 
> Anyways, this fic was inspired by Le_Kunoichi's works. All of Le_Kunoichi's works are INCREDIBLE and have converted me to the Ben/Klaus ship. I dedicate this work to Le_Kunoichi. *insert prayer hands* Go check 'em out!
> 
> In this story, Klaus has been adopted by dear old Reggie, but something happens along the way in which he wasn't raised with the others. Vanya is still drugged up by Reginald (sorry), and all of the Hargreeves siblings (excluding Ape Boy) have moved out of the mansion and are leading lives as functioning members of society.

**_“May the darkness within you find peace in the light.”_ **

**_\- a forgotten, beheaded, memorial statue in an alternate life_ **   
  


Ben Hargreeves is a poet. Self-proclaimed, of course, but nonetheless, a poet. That's why he was up at 3 am on a Thursday staring at a blank piece of printer paper, drinking tea, and listening to classical music, hoping for inspiration to strike him. 

"Maybe you should sleep," his inner conscience told him. 

"I don't need sleep, brain. I need a poem."

_Sleep,_ whines the Horror.

"Shut up."

Ben continues to argue with his brain about his sleep schedule when he suddenly becomes overcome with drowsiness.

_Sleep,_ the Horror says again, this time louder and more commanding.

“Piss off.” 

_SLEEP. SLEEP. SLEEP. SLEEP._

“If I go to bed will you shut the hell up?”

_Sleep._

Ben sleeps.

* * *

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep-_

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Ben grumbles, slowly sitting up in bed and turning off the alarm on his nightstand. He stands up and looks around his tidy, minimalistic single-room apartment. Ben picks up his phone, checking his notifications. Alas, the only one was _Battery Sufficiently Charged_. He sighs, accepting the fact that his social life is that of the quirky, quiet kid in middle school. 

Thirty minutes later, Ben has made his bed (comforter adorned in a floral print, of course), brushed his teeth, gotten dressed, fed the Horror with the unfortunate rat caught in his mousetrap, and stared at his blank piece of paper.

He allowed himself to stare at it for ten minutes before deciding he needed to get to work.

* * *

 _Ding!_ goes the bell dangling above the door. Ben enters his place of employment, or more specifically, Scientia Sit Ubique Bookstore. Ben knows the name is ridiculous. Who even knows Latin anyway? Well, he does, as his asshole of a father forced him and his siblings to learn it at a young age. 

  
  
  


_“Number Six. I expect you have made progress in your Latin lessons this week. Demonstrate what you have learned so far,” came Sir Reginald Hargreeves’s neutral, cold, indifferent voice._ _“Die illo una sabbatorum?”_

_“Veneris. Utinam tempus horologii hora novem,” Ben replied._

_“Good. Quot hostiles maculosus?”_

_“Septuaginta quattuor. Quatuor armatis.”_

_“I see you have been studying well. I expect more progress by the end of the next week, Number Six.”_

_“Yes sir.”_

  
  
  


“Ben, nice of you to join us this morning,” his boss’s voice came.

“Sorry sir, I had to feed my cat before I left my house,” Ben lied.

“It’s quite alright. Hey, you think you can take today by yourself? I got something going on at home - my wife just threw her back out and is having trouble moving about.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Chin. Send my regards to Mrs. Chin,” Ben replied. He was more than happy with running the bookstore by himself; it gave him the chance to work on his poetry without nosy Mr. Chin poking around in his poems. 

The short, squatty, almost entirely bald man shaped like a dumpling nodded, pleased. “I most certainly will! Take care of yourself, young man,” Mr. Chin said, getting his bag and walking out of the front door. 

  
_Ding!_ goes the bell dangling above the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked this or not! Feel free to leave a kudo or comment - I love any type of feedback!
> 
> I shall try to update every week or so. (emphasis on the try)
> 
> *DISCLAIMER: I DON"T KNOW LATIN!! Google Translate was really clutch in the making of the flashback scene in Ch 1. To any of you who understand/know Latin - I'm so sorry. Alright, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.
> 
> The whole Latin-flashback scene is essentially Reginald asking Ben what day of the week it is (Friday), Ben telling him what time it was (9 o'clock), Reggie asking him a question he would have to answer in regards to a fight or something (how many hostiles there were (74, four are armed).


	2. In which the muse is introduced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben meets a strange, captivating man who wanders into the bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So y'all know when I said I'd update once a week? Soooo, that was a lie. I dedicate this chapter to my nerdy, book/fanfic-worm sibling who takes waaaay too long in the shower.
> 
> Again, there's someone I need to mention. *PLUG ALERT* Le_Kunoichi, you wonderful writer. Never stop writing; please. You and your works amaze me every time I read them (a lot). Thank you for the inspiration!
> 
> I think that's about it. I'm sorry for the hella short chapters; I haven't gotten into a thousand-word-long rhythm yet. Thanks for y'all's patience!

**_‘Hope' is the thing with feathers—_ **

**_That perches in the soul—_ **

**_And sings the tune without the words—_ **

**_And never stops—at all—_ **

**_And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—_ **

**_And sore must be the storm—_ **

**_That could abash the little Bird_ **

**_That kept so many warm—_ **

**_I've heard it in the chillest land—_ **

**_And on the strangest Sea—_ **

**_Yet, never, in Extremity,_ **

**_It asked a crumb—of Me._ **

**_\- “Hope Is The Thing With Feathers,” by Emily Dickinson_ **

  
  
  


_Ding!_

Ben looks up from his naked piece of paper, clear-framed glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

"How may I help yyyyyoo...oouu." 

The glasses fell off his face and onto the ground.

"What, do I have food in my teeth?" the man asks, striding through the door, forest green eyes twinkling with laughter and life.

Ben turns vermillion red, embarrassed. "Sorry," he says in a small voice. Ben quickly ducks his gaze to look for his glasses, which seemed to have jumped off his nose and onto the ground in front of the counter.

"Oh, don't be. I'd be speechless too if I saw a face like mine every day," the man with the green eyes says. He walks forward and bends down to retrieve Ben’s glasses off the ground.

He winks at Ben. 

"No, actually, you have marker on your forehead," Ben teases right back, trying to ignore his oncoming crush. _Really man? You can’t just go falling in love with every hot guy you see. Just because your social and love-life is nonexistent doesn’t mean you’re desperate._

“At least tell me it’s not a penis,” Green Eyes says. He laughs a bright, airy sound. Ben shakes his head.

“No, thank God.”

The man reaches forward and offers the glasses to Ben.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Green eyes peers at Ben. It seemed as if he were staring right into Ben’s soul. Ben opened his mouth and begged his brain to come up with something to say to cut through the impending awkwardness, but before he could muster a simple squeak, the young man spoke again.

“You look like a Justin.”

Ben looks at him, flabbergasted. “ _What?”_ he squawks.

The man ignores him, looking away from him and instead into a space to his right.

“No, no, you’re right. He looks more like an Ethan,” he says, seemingly talking to thin air.

_“What?”_ Ben repeats. Green eyes look back at his own, shocked as if he forgot he was there. “Oh, sorry dude. What were you saying?”

Ben glares at him, offended. _God, you should never judge a book by its cover. You of all people should know this. This guy is clearly on something._ “You know, next time you’re talking to someone, you might want to actually pay attention to the conversation and not stare off and talk to the air like some crazy person,” Ben says.

Green Eyes looks surprised and then has the _audacity_ to laugh. “Sorry dude, it’s been a long day. I tend to do this a lot.”

“It’s eight o'clock in the morning.”

“Riiiiiiight. I, um, pulled an all-nighter last night talking to some guy,” he says. Ben rolls his eyes, trying to stifle the blush out of his cheeks. _See? He’s clearly taken. Besides, who would want a crazy guy like that?_

“Whatever man. Just do what you came here to do,” Ben tells the man. The man then shrugs and walks over to the non-fiction aisle of the bookstore. 

* * *

20 silent, awkward minutes pass by before the man closes the book he was reading and puts it back on the shelf. He starts to walk to the door before Ben calls out, “Aren’t you gonna buy that?”

“Nah. Decided it wasn’t worth my time,” Green Eyes says. Ben can feel himself getting irritated again.

“The whole point of a bookstore is to buy books. If you just want to ‘dine and ditch’ like that, go to a library,” Ben says. 

“I like to think of bookstores as people. Sure, I can check ‘em out, but if I don’t like what I see, what’s the point in buying it and dragging it along?” the man says, walking back up to the register where Ben is standing. He subtly leaves forward, narrowing his eyes and peering at Ben. Before he can blush like a teenage schoolgirl, Ben says,

“And? Do you like what you see?”

The green-eyed man leans back, considering his statement for a moment before leaning forward again, this time whispering right in Ben’s ear, 

“Maybe.” His breath trails off and the man leans back, strutting out of the store, long coat swaying behind him.

  
 _Ding!_ goes the bell above the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you see what I did there? With the chapter title? *laughs awkwardly* yeah, I know, I'm pretty funny (not).
> 
> Sorry if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes. I don't have an editor (though I probably should).
> 
> Look for another update sometime in the near future.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop a comment or kudo below (or don't because #free country folks)!


	3. In which we learn about the muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus meets someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter from Klaus's POV. 
> 
> Finally, a chapter longer than 700 words. I have *succeeded* in my hopes for this chapter. 
> 
> Finally, we learn about some of Klaus's backstory.
> 
> Again, I apologize for any grammar/spelling errors.
> 
> This chapter has lots of flashbacks (indicated by italics), and also texting (also indicated by italics), but I think it was enough to differentiate between the two.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my English teacher, who has had to read (original) poems and paragraphs by me (which are all some way tied into The Umbrella Academy). (I'm so sorry)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. For any of you who don't know the song "I Knew You Were Trouble," by Taylor Swift, I highly recommend.

**_“Once upon a time_ **

**_A few mistakes ago_ **

**_I was in your sights_ **

**_You got me alone_ **

**_You found me”_ **

**_\- Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble”_ **

  
  
  


Klaus didn’t consider himself a disappointment. No, those words were his abusive adopted father's, his foster father’s, and the ghosts’ words.

* * *

_“You’re my greatest disappointment, Number Four.” Seven-year-old Four feels the sting of a slap on his cheek. He gets taken away by Child Services later that week and is put into the foster system._

* * *

_“What’s happening?” a nine-year-old Klaus wonders. His (sixth) foster dad’s favorite scotch glass is floating two feet over Klaus’s head, seemingly suspended by nothing but his free will and concentration._

_“The fuck?”_

_The glass drops, his concentration broken. Klaus looks up from the now-shattered scotch glass and into the frightened and angry eyes of his very religious foster father._

_“The Devil,” his 'father' says, “I should have known this one was a bad apple.” He shakes his head, walking away from Klaus and into the other room to make a call. Klaus can faintly hear him say, “Hi? Child Services? I have a child you need to pick up. Yeah, it’s just not a good fit. What did the kid do? He shattered my fucking scotch glass, that’s what he did. Yeah. Okay, thank you. Is it possible for you to come by today? Yeah? Thank you.”_

_Klaus’s foster father walks back into the room._

_“You’re outta here, Devil kid. Go disappoint someone else.”_

_Klaus is unaware of the tears welling up in his eyes._

* * *

_Klaus. KLaus. KlaUs. klAUS. KLAUS. KLAUS. KLAUS._

_“Shut up. Please, just SHUT UP! SHUT UP shuttup stop please stop no,” Klaus pleads with them. They don’t listen, continuing their incessant, horrible sounds._

_“KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS,” they chant._

_“Help me, Klaus.”_

_“Avenge me, Klaus.”_

_“FInd her, Klaus.”_

_“Tell him I’m sorry, Klaus.”_

_“Useless Klaus.”_

_“Can’t-do-anything-right Klaus.”_

_“KLAUS.”_

_“DISAPPOINTMENT.”_

_“Disappointment.”_

_“DISAPPOINTMENT KLAUS.”_

_Klaus curls up in the sticky, smelly, cramped space between a dumpster and the alley wall. His hands are pressed over his ears in an attempt to shut them out._

_The alley has been home for the last couple of years of his life. From age twelve to sixteen, Klaus has sought refuge in this deserted, stanky place. No one except the ghosts to haunt him. No one to see his ratty t-shirt, battered jeans, bare, dirty feet, matted, curly hair, or his frail, malnourished, bony body. No one except the ghosts, or the occasional vagrant or homeless person._

_Weeks pass before a “samaritan” finds him curled up on the ground and takes him home. At first, Klaus is grateful. He soon learns that he’s terribly wrong and that he was willing to starve to death before selling himself to the first person who offers him food and shelter._

* * *

Klaus gets his first job at age 20. With his minimum wage salary, Klaus is finally able to buy new clothes and food. After a few more years, he is able to afford a minuscule room in an apartment, and a few months after that, his first smartphone. Not that he has anyone to contact, of course.

“Ring up this young man please, Klaus,” his manager calls from the front. Klaus puts the dishes he is washing down and wipes his hands on his apron.

“Me?” Klaus asks. He’s never been asked to ring anyone up before in the nine years he has worked there. Something about his “odd” and “eccentric” behavior (caused mostly by the screaming ghosts) that’s sure to scare paying customers off.

“Yes, you. Now get out there, it’s about time you gained more responsibility. Plus, people would rather talk to a nice young man like you then talk to little old me,” says Olga, his boss and head of B&B Bakery. He walks to the front register and smiles at the customer, a man with wavy, dark brown hair, and a wide-lipped smile. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” Klaus asks, copying what he’s heard Olga say to other customers.

“Ooh, I don’t know. What do you recommend?” the man asks, smiling disarmingly. Klaus is slightly shocked; no one has ever asked him this. He ponders this for a second before remembering Olga had let him try the croissants that morning, fresh out of the oven. Klaus says, “The croissants here are to die for. They’re freshly baked too, just this morning!”

The brown-haired man smiles. “Perfect. I’ll have one of those. I’ll take your number too.” He winks at Klaus.

Klaus blushes. He’s been on the receiving end of harmless flirting before, but something about this man seems more sincere. 

“At least buy me dinner first,” Klaus teases. Brown Hair smiles, holding out his phone for Klaus to enter his number. Klaus does, and then gets the man’s croissant. The man smiles his wide-lipped smile again before saying, “Thanks...(he looks at Klaus’s name tag) Klaus.” Klaus just smiles back.

“Have a nice day!”

* * *

Klaus gets home at 9:30, his shift at B&B ending at 9:00. He checks his phone, seeing one new notification. He opens it, noticing it’s from an unknown number.

_Hey,_ it reads, _is this the cute cashier from B &B Bakery? _

Klaus remembers the man from the morning and texts back with a **_Yup! But you can call me Klaus ;)_ **

He gets a response twenty seconds later.

_OK, Klaus ;). My name’s Leonard. We met this morning when I ordered a croissant._

**_Oh, I remember. I’ve never seen you there before. Are you new in town?_ **

_Nah, but it was recommended to me by my boss. He said, and I quote, “Leonard, those Danishes are to DIE for. You GOTTA try ‘em out.”_

**_Maybe you should try them out next time you come to B &B :)_ **

Three blinking dots appear, indicating Leonard is responding. They disappear. _Did I do something wrong?_ Klaus wonders, worried he messed up the one chance at a relationship he had been given.

The dots appear again. 

_Oh yea, I decided to try what was recommended before I tried the Danish. Ya know, just in case it was poisoned. ;)_

Klaus exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, replying **_No poison here. Unless you count my toxic-ly good looks ;)_ **

_Lol, definitely. They’re to DIE for. ;)_

Then comes the message: _wanna go out sometime? I know a great dinner place._

**_Tots. Tomorrow @ 7?_ **

_Sounds great! I’ll make a reservation and send you the address. :)_

Klaus smiles to himself. For his first time formally flirting with someone, he doesn’t feel like he did too badly. Ignoring the beheaded, screaming lady in the corner, he goes to bed feeling less of a disappointment than he has ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, congrats! You've stuck with me for three chapters (but honestly, I don't know how many chapters dis gon be)!
> 
> I do apologize for the lack of Ben in this chapter. (It pained me to have to write a "charming" and "possible love interest" for Klaus that wasn't Ben) #cancel_LeonardPeabody/HaroldJenkins
> 
> Feel free to leave a kudo or comment! (I love constructive criticism!)
> 
> <333


	4. In which our muse learns the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus goes on his date with Leonard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the late(ish) update; I finished writing this chapter, re-read it, and completely pivoted from my original idea. Having said that: I realized this fic is gonna be more Bookstore AU rather than Bakery AU (but who knows, maybe I'll write that in the future). 
> 
> This chapter is from Klaus's POV (clearly). The beginning (the italicized part in the asterisks) is Klaus's perspective on the first time he met Ben, so if you wanna skip that and head straight to the main bulk of the chapter, go right ahead. (No new info is really presented, I think)
> 
> AnYways, this chapter is dedicated to all the guys, gals, and non-binary pals that have stuck with me for the duration of this whole thing; y'all are the best!!

**_What if I asked you to stay?_ **

**_Would you?_ **

**_If I had told you:_ **

**_I love you._ **

**_My manner may speak lies,_ **

**_But my eyes do not._ **

**_\- Anonymous_ **

_ * _

_ "How may I help yyyyyoo...oouu."  _

_ The man’s glasses fall off of his face and onto the ground, just four feet away from Klaus’s feet. _

_ "What, do I have food in my teeth?" Klaus teases, taking note of the man’s deep, coffee-colored eyes and glossy black hair. _

_ The man turns vermillion red, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry," he says in a small voice. Klaus sees the opportunity and takes it. _

_ "Oh, don't be. I'd be speechless too if I saw a face like mine every day," Klaus quips. He walks forward and bends down to retrieve the fallen glasses off the ground. _

_ He winks at the man.  _

_ "No, actually, you have marker on your forehead," the cashier retorts. _

_ “At least tell me it’s not a penis,” Klaus mockingly gasps. He laughs as the man shakes his head. _

_ “No, thank God.” _

_ Remembering the glasses in his hand, Klaus reaches forward and offers the glasses to Cashier Man. _

_ “Thanks.” _

_ “No problem.” Klaus looks at him. The cashier’s face was handsome, sure, but the most intriguing part of him was his eyes; they were clear as day yet guarded as if he were expecting Klaus to launch a surprise attack on him at any second. Klaus tries to think of something clever to say, so he decides upon, “You look like a Justin.” _

_ Cashier Man looks at him, confused and shocked. “What?” he squawks. _

_ Klaus ignores him, spotting a bloody ghost to the cashier’s right. This ghost is different; instead of screaming bloody murder, it too is looking at the cashier before turning to Klaus.  _

_ “No,” the ghost says, “definitely not a Justin. Maybe an Ethan?” _

_ “No, no, you’re right. He looks more like an Ethan,” Klaus says back to the ghost, surprised it’s not currently shouting in his face. _

_ “What?” Cashier Dude repeats. Klaus startles; he genuinely forgot he was there. “Oh, sorry dude. What were you saying?” _

_ The man glares at him, offended. “You know, next time you’re talking to someone, you might want to actually pay attention to the conversation and not stare off and talk to the air like some crazy person,” he says. _

_ Klaus looks surprised and suddenly feels embarrassed. He gives a low chuckle and says, “Sorry dude, it’s been a long day. I tend to do this a lot.” _

_ “It’s eight o'clock in the morning.” _

_ “Riiiiiiight. I, um, pulled an all-nighter last night talking to some guy,” Klaus explains, remembering his conversation with Leonard. Cashier Man rolls his coffee eyes, clearly unimpressed with his excuse. Klaus looks down and spots the man’s blank piece of paper before he speaks again. _

_ “Whatever man. Just do what you came here to do,” he tells Klaus. Klaus then shrugs and walks over to the non-fiction aisle of the bookstore, picking up a book about the Vietnam War. _

_ 20 quiet minutes pass by before Klaus closes the book and rests it back on the shelf. He starts to walk to the door before the cashier calls out, “Aren’t you gonna buy that?” _

_   
_ _ “Nah. Decided it wasn’t worth my time,” he says. Cashier Dude furrows his brow and crosses his arms. _

_ “The whole point of a bookstore is to buy books. If you just want to ‘dine and ditch’ like that, go to a library,” he says. Klaus decides to have some fun. _

_ “I like to think of bookstores as people. Sure, I can check ‘em out, but if I don’t like what I see, what’s the point in buying it and dragging it along?” Klaus says, walking back up to the register. He subtly leaves forward, narrowing his eyes and peering at the cashier, making sure to suggestively grin at Cashier Man.  _

_ “And? Do you like what you see?” Cashier Man goes, falling right into Klaus’s trap. _

_ Klaus leans back, seemingly considering his statement for a moment before leaning forward again, whispering right in the unknowing cashier’s ear,  _

_ “Maybe.” Klaus shrugs and struts out of the store, hips and long coat swaying behind him. _

*

* * *

With the beginning of a new day comes new opportunities. That was something Klaus believed; sure, you could’ve had a really shitty day at work yesterday, but hey, if you could, forget it ever happened. Que sera sera, as the saying goes. 

Klaus bounces off his bed, an extra bounce in his step. Today, after all, was the day he and Leonard were going on a date. A  _ dinner _ date, to be exact. Anyways, Klaus has several hours before he needs to get ready for the date (he likes to sleep in, sue him; plus, he doesn’t have work on Fridays)

  
  


Klaus looks up at the clock hanging above the chair he has currently been reading in for the past couple of hours or so. 

_ KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS,  _ the ghosts go.

“Shut up, ghosties. I ain’t gonna let your  _ bitching _ ruin my day.”

_ KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, _ the ghosts go. They don’t care. They creep out of the shadows, out of the corners, until they’re suddenly just a few feet away from Klaus. The ghosts form a circle around him.  _ A reverse seance, _ his brain supplies. Klaus pushes away that thought and holds his tattooed hands up, palms outward.

“That’s far enough, folks.”

As usual, the ghosts ignore him and advance forward. Klaus can feel their restlessness and feels himself grow agitated.

“Listen, y’all need to back the hell up. Ever heard of ‘making room for Jesus’?”

This time, a ghost woman walks up to him. The woman puts his hand on Klaus’s knee, and he can feel his bones freezing up.

_ Fuck it. _

Klaus gathers his thoughts and concentrates on his core, pooling his energy in his gut before releasing it out of his hands. An eerie blue light washes over the ghosts and they vanish, expelled from his sight. He sighs and exhales slowly, relieved that they’re gone. All but one.

The woman is still there, walking towards Klaus again. Klaus panics; usually, when he sends them away, it takes them days to get back. The ghost opens her mouth (she’s gonna start screaming, he knows it). Interestingly enough, the ghost doesn’t start screaming.  _ She’s talking, _ Klaus realizes after a few seconds.

_ Hi Klaus, _ she says.

“Umm...hi?”

_ I see your date with Leonard is tonight. _

“I don’t see how that’s your business, lady.”

_ Your business is my business, especially when your business involves him. _

“Him? Him as in Leonard?”   
  


_ Him as in Harold Jenkins. Or as you know him, Leonard Peabody. _

“And why should I give a fuck?”

_ Leonard isn’t who you think he is. When Harold was a young boy, he was sentenced to twelve years in prison for the murder of his abusive father. When he got out, he was angry, hell-bent on revenge. _

“Revenge on who?”

_ The world. Anyone. Harold went into an empty bar and started a fight with one of the two customers that were there. He had just tried to hit on me, but I was there with my boyfriend, Jason. Harold started a fight with Jason, but he soon got hold of a broken beer bottle and had stabbed Jason to death. After Harold had ‘dealt’ with him, he grabbed me by my hair and took me back to his apartment. Once he was done with me, he decided if he let me go, I would call the police and he would go back to jail. And I think you know the rest of that story, Klaus. _

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy. There’s no way in  _ hell _ that Leonard is some crazy, homicidal psycho who has murdered three people in cold blood.”

_ You’re right. He’s killed at least five people. Look, I just don’t want another poor soul to end up like me - a victim to his deranged mind. _

“No. You’re wrong. Leonard is a nice, caring man who is the only person who hasn’t treated me like a disappointment, like dog shit on the bottom of a shoe. You have  _ no _ idea what it feels like to finally feel like a decent human being, and I ain’t gonna let anyone take that away from me, especially a dead person who has nothing better to do than haunt my sorry ass!” Klaus exclaims. Who does this lady think she is, a lady who he doesn’t even know, telling him, no,  _ lying _ to him, that Leonard is secretly a murderer who is going to add him to his kill streak? 

“Fuck off,” Klaus says to the ghost, “I don’t wanna listen to your bullshit.”

The woman looks at him with sorrowful eyes. She sighs and returns to the dark, shadowy corners.

_ Don’t say I didn’t warn you. _

  
  


Dinner goes well, to say the least. Harold, no, Leonard, was a perfect gentleman. In fact, the only thing that was out of the ordinary was a crowd of few ghosts who followed them around everywhere they went; Klaus disregarded this as his mind playing tricks on him. Still, Klaus thoroughly enjoyed their conversation about the Vietnam War and other historical events; he couldn’t believe Leonard was into the same stuff as him.  _ A match made in heaven, _ he thinks. 

* * *

_ The murderer and the Seance. What a pair indeed, _ the ghost woman says when he gets back to his apartment. He flinches and bumps into Leonard, who had walked him home. 

“You good, Klaus?” Leonard asks. 

“Yeah, just tired. Can’t say I’m the craziest about the dark either,” Klaus responds. Leonard looks at him, concerned, and grabs Klaus’s arm.

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Would it be crazy for me to say I have?”   
  


Leonard stops. “Wait, you weren’t part of that Umbrella Academy thing, were you?”

Klaus laughs a harsh, cold laugh. “Yeah, I was. That is until my dear old adoptive papa abused the living shit out of me and Child Services whisked me away.” Leonard nods, and after a few silent seconds, asks, “You’re the one that can see the ghosts?”

Klaus nods and looks at Leonard. He can see the ghost lady standing to Leonard’s left, shaking her head. He can see more ghosts coming out of the shadows, seemingly coming out of nowhere. There were now three, no, five. Wait- now there were ten. 

“Is something wrong?” Leonard asks him. Klaus ignores him, instead listening to the ghost woman, who has begun talking again. 

_ You see, Klaus? Do you notice there are more of us? Around him? He’s not who you think he is. Deep down, I think you know that. Take another look at Harold; do those eyes seem innocent to you? _

Klaus acknowledges her words and takes a good, hard look at Leonard.

“Klaus? You’re really starting to freak me out now? I can take you home with me if you want some company. You know, to protect you from the ghosts?”

This was the last major warning sign to Klaus. The last time someone suggested taking him home, he’d ended up alone, scared, and betrayed, and crying behind a dumpster.

“No, it’s okay. Sorry man, I just spaced out for a bit.” Klaus tries to walk Leonard to his door, but Leonard stays where he is, feet planted to the ground. 

“No, I can stay with you if you like. Really, it’s no problem,” Leonard says. Klaus sees through his lie.

“No, Leonard. You go home, I’ll be fine.”   
  


“You’re clearly not fine. I’m staying. Let’s just go to bed, yeah?” Leonard says with a certain hardness behind his voice.   
  


Klaus starts to panic and tries to pull his arm away, but Leonard’s grip tightens. He can feel his heart pounding faster and harder, the beats matching his now-shallow and quick breaths.

“No, no, you go. Text you later?” Klaus tries, but Leonard is unrelenting, keeping his iron grip on Klaus’s arm.

“Leonard, you’re hurting me. Please let me go,” Klaus pleads but to no avail. Leonard smiles a nasty, perverted thing, and says, “Oh no, I’m quite fine where I am. What do you say we head to bed now?”

Klaus feels tears pool in his eyes and can only hear his heartbeat in his eyes, which distracts him from the energy pooling in his gut. He subconsciously tugs on the energy, and the ghost woman shimmers into shimmery, blue existence next to Leonard. The ghost woman snarls and steps into Leonard’s personal space.

“Who the fuck are you?” Klaus hears Leonard ask. 

“Someone you shouldn’t have fucked with,” she says. The woman knees Leonard in his nether regions and Leonard loosens his grip on Klaus’s arm with a  _ grunt _ . Klaus takes the opportunity to rip his arm away and bolt out the door, tearing down the hallway and onto the public sidewalk. 

* * *

Klaus doesn’t know where to go. He can faintly feel the tightness in his gut loosen and knows it’s only a matter of time before Leonard finds him again. He knows he can’t go to the bakery; Leonard knows where that is. He hears Leonard crash through the door of the apartment.

“KLAUS! YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH!” Leonard shouts. Klaus starts running in a random direction like a bat out of hell, trusting that his legs will take him somewhere safe. It isn’t long before he arrives in front of a store, eyeliner running down his cheeks and out of breath.   
  


He rips the door open, startling the man working behind the cashier. He makes it six feet into the store, but before he can apologize for barging in, he feels a sweaty, clammy hand latch onto his forearm.

“What the _fuck_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #cancel Leonard 2020
> 
> Expect an update within the coming week. 
> 
> Next chapter is in Ben's POV and (finally) has some action between our poet and our muse.
> 
> Again, sorry for any spelling/grammar errors.


	5. In which Gordon Ramsay is tossed around (and our poet starts a poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben is having a quiet night before it's oh-so-rudely interrupted by a certain pair of green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright:
> 
> 1\. I've planned for this story to have six chapters; honestly, who knows, maybe that'll change. *smh*
> 
> 2\. I dedicate this chapter to the only reason I get out of bed in the morning: my alarm clock. May you always cause me to have a heart attack every time you split my eardrums in half.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for reading! Luv y'all <33

**_“Me and you and you and me_ **

**_No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be_ **

**_The only one for me is you, and you for me_ **

**_So happy together”_ **

**_\-- “Happy Together” by The Turtles_ **

  
  


Inspiration had struck Ben at exactly nine forty-five on a Friday night. He had been manning Scientia Sit Ubique Bookstore single-handedly the whole day (Mrs. Chin still wasn’t feeling well, bless her soul), and to be honest, Ben was getting tired of reorganizing and sorting the shelves of books over and over again. After all, one could only arrange numerous shelves of books roughly thirty times before deciding it was a waste of time. Not that Ben had anything else to do; the most exciting part of his day was when an old lady had toppled over the cookbook section of the bookstore. He’d spent ten minutes restacking the books onto the rotating book rack; and of course, he was rewarded only with the old lady’s thankful smile. Ben had rung her up soon afterward ( _ finally, someone who actually bought a book from a bookstore _ ), and made polite small talk with her. Her name was Olga, and she owned a bakery only a couple of blocks away from the bookstore. Too soon, Olga left with her cookbook, and Ben was alone again; that is, alone with his stupid blank piece of paper. 

The paper stayed unmarked for a good chunk of the day. At eight o'clock pm, a couple of hours away from closing time, Ben thought he had an idea for a poem (something about loneliness and the desires of the heart), had scribbled down a few words on the paper, and then decided he hated it and ripped the paper up. 

At nine-thirty pm, Ben decided to feed himself (and the Horror) dinner, so he went to the back of the store where Mr. Chin kept a refrigerator and microwave. Ben heated up a frozen bean burrito and began to eat it, bitterly remembering the man who had come in the morning before. 

_ “I, um, pulled an all-nighter last night talking to some guy,” _ the green-eyed man had said. 

_ I bet he’s having a lovely, filling dinner with the man of his dreams, _ Ben resentfully thinks.  _ How can a crazy person like that get someone? Is that certain someone just as insane as him? What does his lover have that I don’t? _ Ben stops himself.  _ I’m not supposed to fall in love with him _ , he remembers; plus, Mr. I-have-the-most-beautiful-green-eyes was a complete stranger (an overly attractive stranger at that).

Ben wonders:

_ How can someone have such perfect eyes? Eyes so green, so clear, so expressive? Eyes like sea glass; eyes that shine with the luminosity of a thousand stars? Eyes as green as the tops of an evergreen forest, eyes as beautiful as- _

“HOLY SHIT!” Ben shouts to his half-eaten burrito. “I’VE GOT IT!” Ben shoves his burrito away and dashes to the printer to grab a sheet of paper. He grabs his favorite ball-point pen that has been tucked behind his ear for the past couple of hours and sits down at the register. Ben frantically writes down all the words swirling in his mind;

“Evergreen, sea glass, stars, clear, expressive, evergreen, wait- no, I already said that,” Ben mutters, completely unaware of two figures racing toward the bookstore.

_ Ding! _

* * *

Ben’s peaceful brainstorming session is interrupted by someone crashing into the store. He looks up, feeling quite irritated until he sees who it is. It’s the man with the green eyes; wait- is it? Ben looks into the man’s eyes, but instead of seeing forest green like expected, Ben only sees muddy, unfocused, gray irises and severely constricted pupils. Before Ben can ask if he’s alright, a man wearing a flannel shirt enters the store. The second man is breathing hard (he clearly skipped a cardio day) and has a wild, deranged look in his eyes. Ben watches as he lunges for Mr. Green Eyes and latches onto his arm. Green Eyes tries to yank his arm away but has no success.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Ben asks no one in particular. Flannel Shirt turns his ferocious gaze to Ben, and Ben flinches from the severity of it.

“The hell are you looking at?” Flannel growls. He clutches the green-eyed man harder; Ben knows that’ll bruise. Ben looks back at a pair of green (gray?) eyes and sees nothing but utter terror and fear. 

“What are you doing?” Ben asks, trying to stay calm, which is getting increasingly more difficult with the Horrors exciting in his stomach.  _ Blood. Danger. Hurt, _ they seem to say.

“Help me, please,  _ please _ ,” Green Eyes pleads. Ben doesn’t know if it's his ‘hero’ instinct (or his infatuation with the man) that acts next, but he flips the bottom of his shirt up, opening a gap wide enough to release a single tentacle. The tentacle wildly flails about before finding its target; the man in the flannel goes flying into the cookbooks. The man with the green eyes scrambles behind the register.

Before Ben can go and comfort him (god forbid he be a ‘proper’ hero), he hears the man shift from beneath a pile of books. Flannel scoffs and tosses a Gordon Ramsay book off his body. 

“Should’ve known. You’re one of those Umbrella freaks; lemme guess, you’re the octopus. Ben, is it?” Flannel says, unsteadily getting to his feet.

Ben yanks his shirt off completely, leaving his battle scars and bare muscles for the world to see. He tosses his shirt behind him and turns back to Flannel, releasing all of the Horror out of his stomach.

“It’s Horror to you,  _ dipshit _ ,” Ben sneers.

“You wanna go? Let’s go then, squid boy,” the man replies. He grabs  _ Gordon Ramsay’s Just Desserts _ and chucks it at Ben; Ben ducks and picks up  _ The Origin of Feces _ .

“Eat shit!” Ben launches the book at Leonard.  _ Damn. _ He misses and realizes how much he’s lost his touch. Leonard laughs and grabs an armful of neon-colored staplers off a table nearby; Ben instantly regrets telling Mr. Chin that he should sell more things other than books.  _ “People love stationery and stuff like that. I’m sure it’ll boost our sales,”  _ Ben had told Mr. Chin last spring.  _ Idiot _ .

Leonard lets the staplers loose, and Ben is suddenly grateful for all the combat training he received under Sir Reginald Hargreeves. Ben finds his old rhythm and twists and dodges the projectiles. The Horror snatches them out of the air.

“Wow, those are some badass staplers,” Ben quips. He smirks and tosses them aside, stalking closer to Leonard until he’s only a few yards away from him. This time, Leonard truly understands the  _ deep _ shit he’s in. Putting his hands up in surrender, Ben hears Flannel say, “Alright, alright, I give. Whaddaya say we put the octopus away and just have a civil conversation?”

Ben growls. “You kinda lost that right after you abused him (he gestures to the green-eyed man behind the counter) and threw Gordon Ramsay at me.”

Flannel tries to back out of the store, but before he can get within three feet of it, Ben snatches him up with a couple of tentacles.

“What? You’re gonna kill me now? Add me to the list of victims to your little pet?”

Ben takes a deep, calming breath and says, “You don’t deserve a quick death by the Horror. You don't deserve anything, and you sure as hell don’t deserve a man like him.” Leonard scoffs.

“Don’t  _ deserve _ him? It’s him who doesn’t deserve anything. Klaus is nothing but a little speck of dust in an infinite universe, destined to disappoint and repulse everyone who meets him; a freak who sees dead people. You want proof? Ask your father, Reginald Hargreeves. Ask all the foster families he’s stayed with. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you he doesn’t deserve the dirt off my boots.”

_ Klaus? That’s his name?  _ Ben thinks it’s the most perfect thing he’s ever heard; a beautiful name for a beautiful man. Leonard struggles against a tentacle and Ben is brought back to the present.

* * *

Ben moves to rip Flannel apart, but stops when he hears a small voice say, “Don’t.” The tentacles halt in the air, unsure of whether to attack or not.

He turns around to look at the man who just spoke.  _ Klaus _ .

“What do you mean,  _ don’t _ ?” he asks Klaus, equally confused and surprised as Leonard.

“Just because someone dies doesn’t mean they go away. I, of all people, should know that,” Klaus says.

* * *

_ 3:30 AM, December 16, 1996 _

_ Number Six creeps down the wooden staircase that leads into the main foyer. The Horror is restless and he can’t sleep; plus, he heard someone pull up in the driveway not too long ago. _

_ Who could be driving this late at night? Six wonders. He makes it to the bottom landing of the stairs, careful to not be seen or heard. _

_ Loud, sharp footsteps make their way through the foyer, and Number Six can see his father, dragging something, no, someone behind him. _

_ “Your lack of progress and fear displayed tonight is immensely disappointing, Number Four. If you wish to control the spirits, you need to give up your childish fear of them. Only then can you be a functioning and worthy member of this team,” Sir Reginald Hargreeves says.  _

_ Four? Ben wonders. What was Four doing with their father so late at night?  _

_ Ben creeps down to the last few steps of the staircase and gets a good look at Number Four. He’s shivering and his hair is matted by something dark and sticky; blood? There’s dirt clinging to Four’s sweaty skin and his uniform is covered in leaves, cobwebs, and blood.  _

_ “Please don’t send me back! I’ll be good! The ghosts don’t scare me anymore, I swear! Just please, don’t send me back-” _

_ “You will continue to be sent to the mausoleum until I deem your progress to be sufficient. This is the end of this matter, Number Four.” _

_ “But, Dad, I-” _

_ “Enough, Four.” _

_ “Dad, they’re so loud! They’re so loud and they never stop screaming and they scare me and they never go away and-” _ _   
  
_

_ “THAT IS ENOUGH, NUMBER FOUR!” A sharp slap echoes through the foyer. Six sees Four’s hands fly to his cheek and he crumples to the ground. Four stifles a sniffle and pregnant tears threaten to spill out of his eyes. Six can just watch, shocked and horrified. Sure, Dad had raised his voice at them several times before but had never hit one of them.  _

_ He is frozen on the stairs, too scared to move. After a few moments, he gathers his courage and tries to sneak back up the stairs. He makes it to the second-to-last stair leading to the bedrooms when he steps on the one creaky part of the top step. _

_ Shoot. _

_ Six hears his father start walking toward the stairs and bolts past the last step and into his room. He closes his door as quietly as possible and then creeps under his covers. Six releases the deep breath he was holding in, his heart pounding in his ears. He hears Reginald’s sharp footsteps walk up the stairs and past his sibling’s rooms, pausing by Six’s door. Number Six can swear he feels his heart stop. Thankfully, the footsteps soon retreat back down the stairs, and Six allows his heart to continue breathing.  _

_ Number Six hears Number Four pad into his room several minutes later. Six gets out of his bed and gently knocks on the door in between his and Four’s rooms. _

_ “Four?” A quiet sniffle. “Four?” he tries again. “I’m coming in.” _

_ Six hesitantly opens the door and steps into Four’s room. The first thing he realizes is that it’s a pigsty; does he ever clean his floor, Six wonders. _

_ “H-hey Six,” Four mumbles, trying to cover up the tremble in his voice. “Whatcha doing here?” _

_ “I came to see if you’re okay.” _

_ Four smiles a hollow smile and says, “Well, I’m OK. Thanks for asking. You can close the door on your way out.” _

_ “Four, I saw what he did to you.” Four’s eyes widen in fear before narrowing. _

_ “You can’t tell anyone you saw that. If anyone else finds out, they’ll ask Dad about it and I’ll get in even more trouble. Please, Six, don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you,” Four pleads. _

_ Six considers his statement, his seven-year-old brain deciding it makes the most amount of sense. “OK,” he replies reluctantly. _

  
  


_ One year later, Four is gone. “Number Four was an unfit member for this academy and has been dealt with,” Reginald says to the confused remaining Umbrella Academy members. _

_ It’s still unclear as to who tipped Child Services about the abuse, but Six regrets not doing something about it sooner.  _

* * *

Ben, now twenty-nine-years old, realizes he  _ can _ do something about it. He meets Leonard’s eyes, hoping he can see the explicit rage swirling in his coffee orbs.

“I’m sure the Horror would love a taste of your pea-sized brain, but I’ll spare you today so I can get you tomorrow,” Ben threatens. “I  _ never _ want to see your sorry ass again, am I understood?” Flannel nods furiously, promising, “I swear. I’ll leave the fucking country, just  _ let me live _ .”

Ben nods and releases him, the Horror slipping back into his stomach. He watches the man in the flannel flee out the door with a  _ ding! _ , never looking back. Ben yanks his shirt back on and turns around to face the register.

He cautiously approaches it, suddenly reminded of the night Four came home crying.

“Klaus?” Ben calls out. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm. Thanks. All good now,” he mumbles. Ben takes this as a green light as walks behind the counter. Klaus is crouching on the ground, sleeves marred with black eyeliner residue. Ben tries to think of something comforting to say (something cliche and stupid like, “Are you okay?”; the man is clearly not), but nothing comes out so he settles on looking into Klaus’s eyes instead.

_ A poem couldn’t do him justice, _ Ben thinks. 

Klaus clears his throat to cut through the silence and holds up a piece of paper.

“Wanna explain this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe...that piece of paper is going to be the death of me.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment/kudo below!
> 
> thx bbs! See you for the next chapter!!
> 
> P.S. I don't know why I made Ben take his shirt off. I guess it just felt right?


	6. In which they finally get together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben is exposed and Klaus receives an abundance of texts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, I lied (yet again). Good thing is, y'all get two more chapters! Woohoo!!
> 
> The first bit is Ben's POV and the second bit is Klaus's.
> 
> Again, I apologize for spelling/grammar shiz.
> 
> Enjoy!!

**_It was missing a piece._ **

**_And it was not happy._ **

**_So it set off in search_ **

**_of its missing piece._ **

**_And as it rolled_ **

**_it sang this song--_ **

**_“Oh I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece_ **

**_I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece_ **

**_Hi-dee-ho, here I go,_ **

**_Lookin’ for my missin’ piece.”_ **

**_“The Missing Piece,” by Shel Silverstein_ **

  
  
  


“Wanna explain this?”

Ben’s breath catches in his lungs as he recognizes the sheet of paper. He freezes and his eyes widen, jaw bobbing up and down like a fish gulping for air.

“Umm...hello? (he looks at Ben’s nametag pinned to his shirt) Ben?”

Ben unfreezes after a few moments and stutters, “Oh, um, that? Heh, no, that’s...that’s- not-”  _ Jesus man, get a grip. _ “That’s nothing. You don’t- don’t really need to look at that anymore-” He snatches the paper out of Klaus’s hand and Klaus gives him a skeptical look.

“Not nothing, eh?” he says and cocks an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest. 

“Yeah. Nothing important anyway.”

Ben ducks his gaze from Klaus and feels his blood rush to his cheeks and ears.

“Ben, if it really is nothing, why are you blushing like someone just caught you getting off to a picture of your grandma?” Ben looks up and gives the man a horrified look.

“That’s disgusting! I’m never gonna be able to remove that horrid image from my mind now!”

“I can put another there if you like.” Ben reddens even more at the slight innuendo.

“Nah, I’m good.”  _ Is he though? _ He sees Klaus shrug and gesture towards his paper.

“Since when were you a poet?” Now  _ that’s  _ a question Ben  _ can _ answer.

“Ever since my sister gave me my first Shel Silverstein book. I’ve been unable to put poetry down since then.”

“Cool cool. Soooo, what’s the poem about?” Klaus questions, blinking his eyes, and smiling innocently. 

“That’s a great question I’d rather not answer. Got any others, or is this interview over?” Ben asks, flustered. Klaus clutches his chest mockingly and stares into Ben’s eyes, trapping him. Ben stares right back and leans forward; two could play at this game.

Klaus leans forward too and narrows his eyelids.

“C’mon, Benerino, tell me! Would it really be sooo bad if I knew? Little old me?”

“Yes, yes it would. Now bugger off.”

Klaus ignores him and continues his wheedling. “Beeeen. Benny. Ben-and-Jerry. Benerino. Benji. Benno. Benjamin. Ben-Ten. Benjamino. Beeeeen-”

“Oh my  _ god _ , will you quit your incessant whining if I tell you?” Ben gives in. He sees the green-eyed man smirk.

“Maybe.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Fine. If you must know, it’s a poem about green eyes.”

“Green eyes? Just green eyes in general?”

“Uhhh-”

“C’mon Ben, don’t hold back on me now!”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s about someone’s eyes.”

“Who’s eyes?”

“Someone.”

“Ben!”

“What?”

“Answer the question!”   
  


“No.”

“Why not?”

“I might die from embarrassment and then never see you again!”

“What? Never see me again? What does that even mean? You’re making no sense, bro.”

Ben explodes, throwing his hands into the air. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, IT’S ABOUT YOU! YOU AND YOUR STUPID GREEN EYES THAT PLAGUE MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT! YOU AND YOUR DUMB EYES ARE WHAT THE POEM’S ABOUT! HAPPY WITH THAT ANSWER?”

Klaus blinks and furrows his brows, shock written all over his features. Ben buries his face in his hands, knowing he’s ruined it.  _ This is what I get for having the social skills of a three-year-old. Why couldn’t I have been like other kids? Why did I have to get adopted by Asshat Hargreeves? This is all his fault. This is  _ all _ his fucking fault. Fuck- _

“Hey, Ben?” he hears Klaus ask. Ben buries his head further, unable to deal with his looming rejection. 

“Ben? Oh for Christ’s sake, look at me.” Ben feels a slender hand cup his chin and lift his head.

“ _ What? _ ” he chokes out, eyes brimming with tears. Klaus scoots forward and rests his hands on Ben’s neck.

“ _ What’re you do- _ ”

Klaus leans forward and locks lips with Ben. The kiss is so soft, sweet, and unreal; Ben takes a few seconds to register what had just happened before realizing it wasn’t just his imagination. He kisses Klaus back with equal fervor and closes his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Hey, none of that.” They break apart and Klaus lifts a thumb to wipe the tears off of his face, swiping them away in gentle, delicate movements. Ben sobs with happiness and pulls Klaus into his lap.

“I take it you’re in love with me,” Klaus murmurs into Ben’s chest.

“You got no idea.” Ben laughs and bends down to give Klaus another kiss.

* * *

They go their separate ways after exiting the trashed bookstore. Ben watches Klaus flounce off, hair whipping in the wind. 

Ben goes to sleep that night with a lovestruck grin on his face, for once unbothered by the Horror rumbling in his stomach.

* * *

_ “Number Four was an unfit member for this academy and has been dealt with,” their father says. Numbers One, Two, Three, Five, and Seven look at each other, confused, while Six just looks down at his shoes. He feels a little funny like he’s plunging downwards on a roller coaster, but like everyone at seven-years-old, doesn’t know to classify it as guilt.  _

_ Six tries to ignore the odd, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach and writes it off as the Horror being more active than usual, but that suspicion is quickly squashed when Reginald calls him into his office two weeks later. _

_ Six stands in the entryway of his father’s office, awkwardly shifting his feet from side to side. Strangely enough, Number Three is there too, hiding behind their mom. _

_ “Number Six, I’ve noticed you’ve been falling behind in your training.” _

_ “I’m sorry, sir, I won’t let it happen again.” _

_ “I must assume that losing Four is negatively affecting your mindset.” _

_ “Sir?” _

_ “Do you know what that sinking feeling in your stomach is, Number Six?” _

_ “The Horror?” _

_ “No. It is guilt, and that is a feeling felt by all normal human beings. However, seeing as that you are  _ not _ a normal human being, we must remove this guilt before it distracts you from your training any further.” _

_ “I’m afraid I don’t underst-” _

_ “Number Three.” Three steps forward and whispers a timid, “sorry” before leaning forward and whispering in his ear: _

_ “I heard a rumor...you forgot Number Four ever existed.”  _

_ Ben’s eyes turn pearly white and the rumor takes its effect. Once his eyes return to their normal brown, he looks back to his father. _

_ “You are dismissed, Number Six.” _

_ “Thank you, sir.” _

  
  


Ben awakens with a startled gasp.

“Oh god. Oh  _ god _ .”

The memory replays in his head.

_ “I heard a rumor...you forgot Number Four ever existed.” _

_ Oh my god, _ Ben thinks.

“He’s one of us.”

* * *

Klaus awakens to a sun-filled apartment.

“What time is it?” he groans, shielding his eyes from the bright sun rays.

_ About time, _ the ghost woman says from the corner.  _ Your phone has been buzzing non-stop for the past two hours. _

“What?”

_ You know. Your phone? ¿Tu teléfono? Dein telefon? _

“I- I know what a phone is, I’m not an idiot!” Frazzled, Klaus feels around on his nightstand for his phone.

“Where is it? Goddamn- where the fuck is it?”

_ It’s in the drawer, dumbass,  _ the ghost says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh. Thanks-”

_ Chrissy. _

“Thanks, Chrissy! You’re a life-saver!”  _ In more ways than one, _ Klaus thinks. He looks at his phone and sees  _ 24+ New Notifications  _ from his messaging client and a little red  _ 9 _ badge over the little phone icon; they were all from Ben.

“Well shit.” He opens the first message.

_ From: Benny Boo _

_ Hey Klaus. Can you call me when you get the chance? Thanks. _

Klaus giggles to himself. Who still uses proper grammar and spelling in their messages?  _ What a nerd, _ he fondly thinks. He scrolls through the rest of the texts, noticing them getting shorter and more frantic as they go on. Klaus was beginning to feel panicked now. What if something had happened to Ben? He clicks on his voicemails and listens to the first one:

“Hi, Klaus. It’s about three-thirty right now, so I can imagine you’re still sleeping. Just...call me first thing, okay? I have to talk to you about something. Alright, bye now.”

The second:

“Hey man. It’s about four-twenty right now. Just a reminder to call me.”

The third:

“Klaus, it’s six-forty. Call me when you get the opportunity.”

_ Christ on a cracker, does this guy ever sleep? _ Chrissy asks from her corner.

“I think I’d better call him,” Klaus says.

_ Ya think?  _

* * *

Ben picks up after two rings.

“KLAUS! OH, sorry, I shouldn’t be yelling.”

“It’s all good. I needed a proper wake-up call,” Klaus sasses. He hears a groan of embarrassment and can just imagine Ben’s cherry red face. “So what was so important that you had to call me nine times? Did someone die? Oh, or did Oprah Winfrey win the Nobel Peace Prize? No, wait, don’t tell me- did Kim and Kanye break up?”

A sigh from the other end of the line.

“No, Klaus; unfortunately, I think it’s a bit late for them to split up. I mean, they do have four children together. Anyways, I’m assuming that’s not why you called.”

“No, Benerino, I just wanted to hear your morning voice. Or would it be afternoon voice for you, Mr. I’m-Still-Awake-at-Three-Thirty?”

“About that...I’m really sorry. I guess my social skills and cues are a bit off, seeing as that I received little to no interactions with normal people my own age when I was young.”

“I mean, I guess spending more than half of your life living with your crotchety father is enough to turn you a bit socially awkward,” Klaus remarks.

“That’s actually what I was calling about.”

“Oh?” Klaus asks.

“It’d probably be better to talk about this in person. Are you free today?”

Klaus takes a moment to respond, pretending to check his schedule.

“I have a  _ very _ important business meeting at eleven, but I could squeeze you in for lunch at eleven-thirty?”

“That’s an odd way to say you’re not busy.”

“I never said I was, but for you, I’m always open,” Klaus replies, hoping Ben could feel his sly smile through the phone.

A laugh from Ben and then, “Terry’s at eleven-thirty?” 

“Terry’s? The place with the fucking awesome sandwiches? Count me  _ in, bitch _ !”

Another laugh. “Glad to hear it.”

  
The call hangs up with a  _ beep! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha...y'all really thought I would resolve this whole thing in one chapter?? 
> 
> Chap. 7 should be up by next week, maybe sooner. Hopefully, it'll be a wee bit longer than this chapter lol
> 
> See y'all later!! <33
> 
> PS. I don't really know how to write kissing scenes so we kinda had to wing that one (sorry)


	7. In which they remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Klaus go on a lunch date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have good news y'all:
> 
> I finally got a beta reader, so hopefully, the next coming chapters are better edited.
> 
> I just want to thank all of y'all for sticking with this story! It means the world to me!!
> 
> <3

**_Say my name_ **

**_Sun shines through the rain_ **

**_A whole life so lonely_ **

**_And then come and ease the pain_ **

**_I don't want to lose this feeling, oh_ **

**_\-- “Eternal Flame” by The Bangles_ **

  
  
  


Ben arrives at Terry’s and takes a seat at one of the two-toppers by a large window. He’s early, of course, and takes a sip of water from the glass of ice water placed on the table in front of him. 

_ “I heard a rumor...you forgot Number Four existed.” _

Deep in thought, Ben absentmindedly traces swirls into the foggy condensation coating his glass, lost in past memories of his childhood.

_ “Wake up, Six!” an exuberant Number Three shouts from his doorway. _

_ “What?” he groggily calls from his bed. _

_ “You know what day it is, don’t you?” Three asks. _

_ “What day it is? I dunno, Monday?” _

_ “Close.” _

_ Does he look like a calendar? “Three, to be honest with you, I literally just got up, so sorry if I’m not providing you with a sufficient answer to your question. Why don’t you just tell me?” _

_ “Wow, someone’s grumpy. It’s our birthday today, silly.”  _ Oh.  _ Six had forgotten if he was being quite honest. _

_ “Oh,” he says. _

_ “Oh? That’s all you have to say?” _

_ “Well, our birthdays, just like any other day, usually just consist of us having training, meals, and schooling.” _

_ “Six, don’t be such a downer. You only turn thirteen once!” Three states. With that, she turns around and flounces into the hallway. Skipping over the empty bedroom next to his room, Six can hear her pounding on Five and Seven’s doors, shouting to them frantically. _

_ Six doesn’t think it’s odd that he has an empty room next to his own. After all, they lived in a big house and many of the rooms were unoccupied. What he  _ did _ find odd was the strange scribbles on the baseboards he found in the room. All the scribbles were in different languages; some in English but others in Spanish, Ancient Greek, German, and French.  _

_ “Listen to me, my son,” one of them read. _

_ “^Hijo de puta,” read another. _

_ “\водка под левым шкафом.” _

_ “*δεν μπορείτε να ξεφύγετε από τα νύχια του θανάτου,” said one written in the corner. _

_ Clearly, whoever cleaned the room out had missed a couple of spots; either that or they didn’t care. Whatever the case was, Six didn’t mind. After all, he only had to share one wall with Two, who wasn’t exactly the loudest person (granted he wasn’t screaming at One). Also, it was entertaining for Six to try and decipher the handwriting (the inner crime sleuth within him enjoyed it at least; Six wasn’t ashamed to admit he had read Nancy Drew when he was nine); the messy and loopy scrawl was a cross between that of a sixth grader’s and John Hancock’s.  _

_ Six gets out of bed and puts his uniform on before trudging to the bathroom. He lines up behind Number Five, who then tells him, “One’s taking his sweet time in the bathroom today.” _

_ “Maybe he ripped the sink off the wall again.” Five and Six share a laugh as Seven lines up behind them.  _

_ “What’s so funny?” _

_ “Six thinks One ripped the sink off the wall again,” Five says. _

_ “Well, he has done that twice before. I wouldn’t be surprised; it  _ is  _ his power after all,” Seven says; Six hears the bitter undertone to the last statement and says, “Seven, you’re pretty darn lucky you don’t have powers. I mean, would you want to be an interdimensional portal that threatens to rip you apart every second and releases hell-monsters onto people?” She shakes her head. _

_ “You’re right, Six. Sorry.” _

_ Six shrugs and pats her shoulder. They wait for a few more minutes before One comes out of the bathroom and walks downstairs to help set up for breakfast. Two shouts, “That must’ve been one hell of a shit!” after him and ducks into the bathroom.  _

_ Twenty minutes later, Six and all of his siblings were downstairs for breakfast. Six quietly stands by his assigned seat at the table next to Three; he can practically feel her vibrating with excitement. He internally rolls his eyes and shoves the book he has hidden under his shirt farther up. Their father arrives shortly after, and with a curt, “You may begin,” he and his siblings sit down to eat. Six grins at their mom gratefully as she sets down a plate of happy face pancakes in front of him and she smiles at him reassuringly, as if she knows something he doesn’t. _

_ Breakfast is going relatively well when halfway through, Six looks up from his book and spies Five take a deep breath. Seven shakes her head frantically as he turns to look at their father. _

_ “I want to time travel,” he announces, stabbing his knife into the table with a flourish. _

_ “No,” Sir Reginald says, not even looking up from his newspaper. _

_ “But I’m ready,” Five insists, “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said!” Six stows his book under the table and watches the drama unfold as Number Five spatial jumps behind Reginald. _

_ “Number Five, a spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, and the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn,” their father states, putting his newspaper down long enough to glare at Five. _

_ “You’re the one always telling us to explore our powers further! This is how I’m exploring mine; I don’t get why you don’t want me to time travel!” Five exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. Six looks across the table and catches Two’s eyes; he looks just as intrigued and shocked as Six feels. _

_ “Time travel will have certain effects on your body and mind and is far too unpredictable. My mind is made up, and I forbid you to talk about this anymore!” The seated numbers share a look of surprise; Father had hardly ever raised his voice. Six can’t remember a time where he had yelled at anyone; at least, to his knowledge. _

_ Five glares and jumps away, clearly fed up with Sir Reginald’s reasoning. _

_ “Number Five! You haven’t been excused!” Reginald calls after him, but it’s no use; Number Five is gone. _

_ Breakfast resumes quickly and the dining table is silent once again. They finish soon and Reginald dismisses them to training. _

* * *

_ After training, Six is called into the kitchen along with his other brothers and sisters; or what’s left of them anyway. Five still hadn’t returned, and if Six was being honest, he was getting worried. Their mother is waiting for them and instructs them to take a seat. _

_ “Now, children, your father and I understand it is a very important day for all of you. Because today is such an important day, we have decided to grant you each a gift.” _

_ Sandwiched between Seven and Three, Six can feel both perk up and stand taller. _

_ “Under your father’s permission, I have decided upon the perfect gift for all of you: names.” _

_ They all gasp; surely she didn’t mean it? After all, they had been called nothing other than Numbers their whole lives, and now they get names? Real, personalized names? Six and his siblings couldn’t believe it. _

_ “It would be my utmost joy if you all accepted the names I have chosen for you. I hope you like them!” Mom steps in front of One and places a hand on his shoulder. _

_ “My dear Number One, I have selected the name Luther for you.” _

_ One smiles brightly and repeats the name to himself. “Luther. Luther. I like it!” he decides. “Thanks, Mom!” _

_ She grins back at him and moves to stand in front of Two. _

_ “My dearest Number Two, I have chosen the name Diego for you.” _

_ Two, now Diego, beams at her and says, “Di- Diego. Thanks, Mom, I love it!” _

_ Their mother matches his smile and turns to Three. She receives the name Allison, and all too soon it’s Six’s turn. He can hardly contain his excitement; his siblings got expressive and fitting names, why shouldn’t his be any different? _

_ “Six, you shall be called Benjamin,” he hears his mother say. _

_ Benjamin? He likes it, but it feels too long, too pretentious. _

_ “Is it okay if I choose Ben?” he asks. He sees Two look at him sharply as if chastising him for being ungrateful to their mom. Their mother, however, takes his hand and says to him, “Of course, dear. I wouldn’t be happy any other way,  _ Ben _.” _

_ Ben smiles and he feels the Horror rumble in his stomach, stimulated by his exuberant emotions. He can vaguely hear Seven get the name Vanya, but he’s a bit too busy trying to get the Horror back under control. Six, no Ben, takes a calming breath and the Horrors settle. He allows himself to smile and turns back to his siblings.  _

_ “What about Five?” Vanya asks. Everyone freezes, unsure of what to think of the question. _

_ “Oh, sweetie, he can get his name when he comes back!” Mom says. She accepts the answer and they thank their mother. _

_ Except Five doesn’t come back. In fact, he was gone for so long they considered him dead and Reginald hung a painting of him above the fireplace. Ben remembers Vanya’s horrible sobbing that day, the way she cried, “He’s not dead! He’s just lost! He’ll come back!” He recalls sneaking to the kitchen at night and seeing her uneaten peanut butter-and-marshmallow sandwiches. Worst of all, Ben remembers walking past Five’s old room and thinking, “Another empty room.” _

Ben is so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear the front door of the sandwich shop open.

“Hi, Ben!” Klaus says as he sits down in the chair opposite Ben. He doesn’t respond, seemingly staring off into space.

“Ben?” No response.

“You know, I  _ do _ have a very important meeting, so we could reschedule if you like,” Klaus says, placing his hand on Ben’s. He jerks up and snaps back to the present; when did Klaus get here?

“Oh, hi Klaus!” Ben says. Klaus just laughs and turns his hand over, examining the glass Ben had been doodling on.

“I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Ben laughs. “I’m not, but there are a lot of things you  _ don’t  _ know about me.  _ Yet _ .”

“I’m pretty sure it can’t get more surprising than tentacles bursting out of your stomach.”

“Quite true. Actually, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“The tentacles? I mean, sure, but like, what is there to talk about?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Not quite, smartass. What do you know about the Umbrella Academy?”

“The Umbrella Academy? That exclusive school for ‘special’ cases run by that old, crusty raisin that goes by the name of Sir Reginald Hargreeves?”

“So you do know. Can you remember anything about there specific or anything from your childhood?” Ben asks. Klaus frowns.

“I mean, yeah, I can remember  _ several _ things about the Umbrella Academy.”

“And those being?”

“That Reginald is a wrinkly, abusive, dirtbag, and that I couldn’t have gotten out of there sooner.”

“Anything else? Like, do you remember any other kids that were part of the Academy?” 

“Is it bad that I don’t? I feel like I should, but I can’t think of anyone. I mean, there was one person I remember that wasn’t Reginald. I can’t remember his name for the life of me, though.”

Ben leans forward, intrigued. “What do you remember about him?”

“He was the only person that actually cared about me. I dunno, a  _ warm presence _ or some poetic shit like that. You would know, Mr. Stalker-Poet.” Klaus winks.

Ben looks at him and gasps with mock offense. “I beg your pardon, but I am not a stalker!”

“Sure you aren’t. And I can’t see the dead.” The conversation takes a serious tone and Ben takes a sip of water.

“Can you? Actually see the dead?”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Klaus, if you really can, you’re one of us.”

“ _ Us? _ What, a member of the Umbrella Academy?” 

“Essentially, yes.”

“In case you don’t remember, I got kicked out. Something about not ‘fitting in’ and being a ‘disappointment.’”

“That’s the thing. I don’t remember. I think someone wiped my memories of you. That someone being Allison.”

“Allison?”

“Another Umbrella kid. My sister. She can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Anything, eh? Like, if she told you to go streaking right now, would you do it?”

“What part of anything does your dirty mind not understand? If she rumored me to go skydiving naked I would have to do it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Klaus takes his glass of water and takes a long sip, clearing his throat with an  _ ahhh! _

“Anyways, yes, I really can see the dead. Lemme tell you, Benny, you have a pretty large body count.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what happens when your father turns you into a bloodthirsty killing machine at the ripe age of thirteen.”

Klaus winces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you had nothing to do with it.”

They continue talking for a couple more minutes before a server comes over. Ben reads her nametag.  _ Madeline, _ it reads.

“Hi, are y’all ready to order?”

* * *

It’s a breezy, sunny afternoon as Ben and Klaus exit Terry’s.

“Ya know, for a first date, that wasn’t half bad,” Klaus says, taking Ben’s hand in his own. It’s slightly cool to the touch in comparison to Ben’s own warm hand.

“If this is your way of asking for a second, I would say yes.”

“Only if you’re offering, Benny-boo.”

“Only if you’ll accept, my muse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kool:
> 
> Just to clarify, Allison wiped (or tried to) Klaus's memories of the academy.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> *You can not escape the clutches of death.
> 
> ^Hijo de puta - motherfucker
> 
> \vodka under the left cabinet
> 
> Sorry for the late(ish) update! I shall try to update by next week or so.
> 
> See y'all soon!


	8. In which we reach our conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Klaus celebrate their one-year anniversary. 
> 
> (Klaus POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW Y'ALL!!! We've reached the end of this fic (definitely not the end of the story, though). Thank you so much to all of y'all that have read this! I'm honestly so blessed to be able to share my ideas and stories with all y'all on here. 
> 
> Thank you again to Le_kunoichi for the inspiration!!
> 
> This chapter is for all the people out there who have dreams and aspirations; in the wise words of the prophet Klaus Hargreeves, "Don't go chasing waterfalls; stick to the rivers and lakes you're used to."
> 
> P.S. So sorry for the late update - school has been quite *hectic*

**_The kingdom come, the rise, the fall_ **

**_The setting sun above it all_ **

**_I just wanna be somebody to you_ **

**_\-- “Someone to You” by BANNERS_ **

  
  
  


Needless to say, they’re still going strong a year later. 

_Ding!_ Klaus throws SSUB’s front door open.

“Yoohoo! Benny-boo, I’m here!” he shouts, strutting to the register where Ben is usually sitting. _Strange._ He isn’t there.

“Ben?” No response. “You’re not hiding, are you? You know I love a good game of ‘hide the bana- I mean, hide-and-go-seek.’” Klaus leans over the counter and looks behind the register. _Still no Ben._ “Don’t make me go in the back. You and I both remember the last time I did that Mr. Chin caught us. He said, and I quote, ‘Ben, if you’re going to be sneaking around in the back with your boyfriend, at least close the shop so people don’t walk in on you _messing about_.’”

Not even a peep.

_OOmph._ Klaus leans over the counter too far and goes tumbling over. “Ah shit.” Using the counter to haul himself up, Klaus stands up with a _grunt_. He notices a piece of parchment-colored paper below his right hand and picks it up. Scanning the paper with his eyes, a smile creeps onto his face:

_Dear Klaus,_

_As you may have noticed, I’m not in the bookstore-_

“No shit, Benny-”

_-. Where I am, however, is for you to figure out._

“Ah. So it’s a Nancy Drew roleplay. Very clever, Ben.”

_Your first clue: Locate me in the lamb sauce, or rather, lack thereof._

At first, he’s confused. “What. Lamb sauce? I don’t fuckin- lamb sauce? Lack of lamb sauce? What sauce? Where would the lamb sauce be anyways? I don’t know where the sauce is- wait-”

Klaus lets a laugh out. 

“-WHERE’S THE LAMB SAUCE? Ben, you pun-y son of a bitch!” He jumps over the counter and runs to the Gordon Ramsay cookbooks. Klaus grabs the nearest one, _Gordon Ramsay: In the Heat of the Kitchen_ , and opens it. He gently shakes it by the spine a couple of times before another piece of parchment-colored paper flutters out.

_Klaus:_

_I knew watching all those MasterChef episodes with you would pay off. You know, you remind me of Gordon Ramsay in a way. You’re both passionate and love to curse; as well as not being ashamed of knowing you’re the best. That’s what I love about you: you just don't give a crap and have enough self-confidence to fill an ocean._

_Clue #2: This babushka can bake. Grains aren’t the only ancient things in this bakery._

Klaus gets this one immediately. “Ben, that’s just mean now. Olga’s not even that old!” _How old_ is _she?_ “Well- maybe she is. But how old she is isn’t the point!” he says to no one in particular, startling the ghost of an old Asian woman in the corner. She stares at him as if Klaus had just walked in butt-naked.

“What?” The ghost doesn’t respond and shrugs, fading into the shadows. 

* * *

Klaus jogs into B&B Bakery, winded, and out of breath.

“Klaus? Is that you?” Olga asks from behind the counter.

“Yeah, sorry for- for dropping in like this,” he puffs. He takes a seat at one of the tables lining the sides of the bakery. 

“что не так, ребенок?” she questions.

“Um, did, uh, is there any chance Ben has dropped by today?” Klaus asks.

She takes a few seconds to think. “As a matter of fact, yes. I think he asked me to give you something. I’ll go get it.” She waddles to the back of the store and comes back with a blueberry muffin. Klaus smiles, remembering the first time he had taken Ben to the bakery.

* * *

_“Ben!” he calls out to a bundle of jackets and scarves sitting on a snowy park bench. The bundle turns its orange beanie-clad head and Klaus can make out two chocolate eyes and tufts of ebony hair. Klaus walks to the bench and takes a seat, ignoring the fact that his ass is most definitely going to be wet from the snow later._

_“Klaus,” says a fond voice from inside the jacket, “glad you could make it.” Klaus makes a show of draping his gloved hand over his forehead and leans against Ben. “Sorry, darling, traffic was, uh, frozen.”_

_Ben laughs and lifts a hand to push the beanie up his face. He takes his glasses, which have fogged up, and wipes them off._

_“My ass is frozen now, no thanks to you, babe.”_

_“We’ll just have to warm it up later then,” Klaus replies. “But first, we have to go to the bakery. Olga wants to formally meet ‘the boyfriend.’”_

_“She already has met me! I sold her a Gordon Ramsay cookbook!” Ben protests. “I just want to spend one day with my stupid boyfriend (who apparently can’t be on time to save his life) and be in a place with a decent heater!” Klaus sighs. “Bennyboo, darling, the bakery_ does _have a heater. It also has killer pastries. And bread. And a smoking hot employee who you have the pleasure of being in a relationship with!”_

_“Lucky me.” Ben stands up. “Only if I get a free muffin. And we go to my place afterward to do some Netflix-and-warm-up.”_

_“Isn’t it Netflix-and-chill?”_

_“I’ve had enough ‘chill’ to last me a lifetime. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel my face again.”_

_“Oh, Ben, you’re so dramatic.”_

_“Klausy, I_ am _a poet. We’re supposed to be dramatic and broody.”_

_“Fair enough.”_

_Klaus gets up and grabs Ben’s hand and they walk to B &B Bakery. _

* * *

_Olga stands behind the display case. “Who’s this, Klaus?” she inquires, an eyebrow quirked up._

_“Ben, Olga. Olga, Ben,” Klaus introduces. Ben gives a shy wave and Olga smiles. Klaus almost doesn’t catch the sly raised-eyebrow she sends him; “The boyfriend?” it seems to ask. Klaus slightly nods back._

_“I’m glad to finally meet you,” she tells Ben, “Klaus talks about you all day long!” She gives him a once-over. “You didn’t mention he was skinny, Klaus! We’ll have to fix that right away, yes, right away!” she exclaims, waddling away to get fresh pastries from the oven._

_“Oh no, ma’am, that’s completely unnecessary!” Ben calls after her. Klaus turns to him and says, “Literally not even fifteen minutes ago you were complaining about wanting a blueberry muffin.” Ben looks at him, eyes wide. “I was joking! There’s really no need to-”_

_“Olga! Ben says he likes blueberry muffins!” Klaus calls out to Olga._

_“Good, good. That boy needs to eat more,” comes Olga’s distant voice. Ben gives him a horrified look. “Now you’re making me seem rude and demanding!”_

_“Well, you are, Bennyboo.”_

_“I am not,_ Klausy-poo _.”_

_“Not in public, anyway,” Klaus says. Ben lifts a glove to smack him on the face when Olga waddles back in. She walks over to Ben and hands him a plate with a blueberry muffin. Ben reddens and says, “Thank you, ma’am.” He reaches into his jacket's large pocket to pull his wallet out but Olga stops him._

_“No, no, this is free! Anything for a friend of Klaus’s! A_ boyfriend _, nonetheless,” she insists. “And call me Olga, Ben,” Olga adds. Ben thanks her profusely and she sits them by the window. “Anything for you, Klaus?” she asks._

_“Ah no, thank you. I’ll just steal some from this one,” Klaus says, gesturing to Ben’s muffin. Olga nods and walks away, leaving them alone._

_“Ya know, I wasn’t planning on sharing,” Ben says as he reaches forward. Ben breaks the muffin in half and tears out a piece of the middle. “What?” he asks after he sees Klaus giving him a strange look._

_“Are you eating out of the middle of the muffin? Instead of the top?”_

_“Yeah. I don’t really like the top - muffin tops are usually dry. ” Klaus looks at him, bewildered. “I’ve never seen or met anyone who doesn’t like the middle better than the top!”_

_“Well, Klaus, you should know by now that I’m just built different,” Ben says._

_“Well, if you’re not gonna eat the top, wanna share that with me?” Klaus asks him. Grinning, Ben shakes his head._

_Klaus reaches forward and breaks off another piece. “Sharing is caring, Ben-Ten,” he chides. “Say ahhh!”_

_Ben gives him a confused look. “Ahh-” Klaus shoves the piece of muffin into his mouth. Ben chokes and coughs a bit before swallowing the muffin._

_“Only you could figure out how to turn eating into a dangerous- HOLY SHIT, THIS IS GOOD!” he yells. Klaus can faintly hear Olga chuckling in the background. “I know, right?” he says. Ben doesn't respond and stuffs more blueberry muffin into his mouth. After a few bites, he offers a piece to Klaus. “Want some?”_

_Klaus laughs and leans forward, grabbing the piece with his mouth. “Not regretting coming here after all, huh, Ben?” Ben nods vigorously._

* * *

Klaus splits the blueberry muffin in half to find it hollowed out in the middle. _Weirdo_ , he fondly thinks. Klaus carefully pries the parchment paper out and unfurls it.

_Klaus:_

_Smart, huh? I knew you wouldn’t forget my (somewhat odd) affinity for the middle of blueberry muffins. You really forget nothing, babe (especially the time I fell off the ladder and on my ass at that library)._

_Clue #3: In Nicki Minaj’s wise words: Let’s go to the beach, beach, let’s go get away._

Klaus says goodbye to Olga and beelines for the beach where he and Ben spent the summer.

* * *

Three clues later, Klaus arrives at the Ramble. _Central Park? Nice, Ben_. He meanders around the trails and streams before spotting a figure sporting a familiar black leather jacket. He jogs up to him and wraps an arm around the man’s waist. 

“Very clever, Ben, very clever. That bit with the blueberry muffin? Pure genius. I really _still_ can’t get over the fact you like-”

“Just admit you liked it, weirdo,” Ben says, laying an arm around Klaus’s shoulder. “I know you’re a sucker for a good game.” He gestures to the sun setting in the distance. “I also know you’re a sucker for a good sunset.”

“Honestly, who isn’t?”

Ben laughs. “Fair point.” They stay like that for a few more minutes, watching the sinking sun and holding each other.

* * *

“This is honestly one of the nicest things anyone has done for me. Thank you, Ben.” Ben looks at Klaus. “You deserve this and more, Klaus. Nobody can tell you otherwise, and if they do, you can just steer them in my direction.”

“Aww, you’d be willing to rip people apart with your tentacles for me? How sweet!” Klaus says. Ben rolls his eyes. “I don’t need my tentacles to rip people apart, you know.” His voice takes on a high and snooty quality. “I have received the highest level of combat training under Sir Reginald Hargreeves, and am a proud holder of the title ‘Ass Kicker.’” They share a giggle and Klaus says, “ _Well,_ ‘Ass Kicker,’ thank you for your service and bravery. Us law-abiding citizens _do_ thank you for that.” 

“ _Sarcastic shit_ ,” Ben mumbles under his breath. Klaus raises his hand to smack him but Ben intercepts him and puts the hand around his neck.

“Much better,” he says and leans in for a kiss. Klaus readily complies.

* * *

The sun disappears below the horizon.

“So now that I’ve set the bar for anniversaries, you better start thinking of something to do for next year,” Ben says.

Klaus takes a moment to think and then tells him, “I’m thinking strip club. Or hell, a rave! Those are cool!” Ben makes a sour face. “You know all people do at raves is hook up with other people and do hard drugs, right?” 

“That’s what makes them fun!” Klaus exclaims. Ben rolls his eyes and mummers, “Can’t wait.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another piece of parchment paper. Ben hands it to Klaus. “Read it,” he instructs.

“Why?”

“You’ll understand.”  
  


“You’re not breaking up with me, are you? This isn’t like a pink slip?”

Ben laughs. “Just read it, Klausy.”  
  


Klaus begins to read it:

  
  
  


_Remember that day? That fateful day you waltzed into the store; and quite possibly my heart as well. You walked in, picked up my glasses, flirted with me, and called me an ‘Ethan.’ And then you proceeded to tell me you were dating someone else. Pure torture, really. I suppose I got my revenge on him later. You were so distressed that night you came in, that ugly bastard chasing after you. We don’t have to relive that moment though; I clearly remember you finding my poem that night. Well, bits and pieces of it, anyway. Here we are, a year later. You’re the muse to my poet; I’m pretty sure you know this already, but if you didn’t, here it is: I love you, Klaus._

_Are your eyes green or gray?_

_I can’t remember._

_Are they the shimmering forest lake or the storm, ready to destroy an entire nation?_

_I can’t remember._

_Green, like the ocean;_

_Like sea glass, lighting up the shore;_

_Like the tips of the evergreen forest;_

_Like an everlasting wealth of jade, shimmering like precious emeralds._

_Green, like Spring._

_Green, like happiness._

_Gray, like the storms that wrack and shake the heavens;_

_Holding so much power and emotion behind one look;_

_Like the flash of a steel blade before impaling its enemy;_

_Like the panic of being lost._

_Like pregnant storm clouds, ready to burst with rain._

_Gray, like the cold and darkest winters._

_Gray, like ash._

_I’ll admit:_

_I prefer the light of the green to chase away the muddy, monotone gray._

_But it’s always okay to have gray days;_

_Just remember, I’ll be there to catch you when you fall,_

_When you have those gray days and the muddiness overwhelms you._

_Are your eyes green or gray?_

_They are both._

_\-- XOXO, Ben_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“что не так, ребенок?” - “What’s wrong, child?”
> 
> That's it, folks! Stay tuned for more of this story to come - I'm thinking of making this a series. 
> 
> I'm so sorry if the last little poem was *bad.* I tried, I really did, but my poetic sauces weren't flowing as fast today. 
> 
> In the inspiring words of Gordon Ramsay, "Where's the lamb sauce?"


End file.
